Fire and Ice
by SuperPsychoLove
Summary: Thor is just beginning to settle down on Earth after defeating the Dark Elves, when a new threat arises. The fire giants of Muspelheim plan to invade Midgard and take back what's theirs. Unfortunately for them, Thor loves the mortals, Lady Sigyn loves Midgard, and Odin loves both Thor and Sigyn. Everything is not what it seems. (Post-TDW)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! I know I have a million other stories to update but... this happened. Eh. Anyway, I know for a fact that the mythology I use in this is completely butchered but I took creative liberty so... yeah.**

 **oOo**

" _Stableman!_ "

It was called in a firm voice, one laced with authority and a thick Asgardian brogue. Had he not heard it before, the stable boy never would have believed it to be a female. Its sharp yet graceful tone had only ever touched his ear in the High Court, of course, during one of his few visits.

The woman- just barely out of her adolescence, really- was possibly the most powerful non-male figure in all of Asgard, now that the queen had passed.

Having recently been promoted to Head Mage, not to mention raising _six_ children by herself, more than proved her vast her maturity and strength.

The scrawny young man stepped forward from his place near the stable doors.

"Yes, M'lady?" the boy bowed his head in acknowledgement of the woman's high social ranking.

"Bring me a horse, Sir." The slicing edges of her tone had smoothed into a silky lower octave, affording the man the oppurtunity to meet her gaze.

"Yes, M'lady. Which mare would you have?"

"Bring me Skynda." the High Mage demanded, and after a moment of thought, added "And ready the stallion, Soltimm."

 _Now this_ , the worker mused, _is a problem. Surely a woman of such grace does not wish to mount the mustang, Skynda. The wild beast found mere months ago in Vanaheim. He who has thrown every rider which attempted to tame him. That monstrous creature does not deserve to carry such a magnificent girl._

"Lady Sigyn, surely you have confused Skynda with one of our other animals. Perhaps I could fetch you the prized mare, Vaetta. She has not been ridden by anyone of the Royal Court in quite some time and-"

"Bring me the mustang, Good Sir. I wish to have Skynda and no other. Do as I say, now, before my patience leaves me."

After another silent moment of doubt, the lad scurried off to fix the two horses with their riding equiptment. Upon his return, the woman smiled sweetly at him.

"Thank you, Sir. They shall be returned by sundown, no later."

And with that, the beauty mounted that feral thing- for some reason, it didn't even make a fuss- and trotted down the dusty pathway that led back into the city.

oOo

"That was not _fair_! Jorgumand used his silly magic tricks on me! I would have won, had he not cast that stupid illusion on my sword!" the brown-haired child waved his wooden practice weapon in his sibling's face.

"It is not _my_ fault you are scared of a little snake!" the older, black-haired youth exclaimed, proudly puffing out his nonexistant pectoral muscles.

"It was _cheating_! Padraig, was that not cheating?"

Both of the children inclined their small heads to stare heatedly into they eyes of the bulky man seperating them.

Padraig, their personal training instructor, was not unused to their squabbles. Vali and Jorgumand had similar skills when it came to combat, the only difference being that Jorgumand utilized seidr, where Vali had no interest in such a thing. The younger of the two, Vali, would often accuse his elder of foul play- and, in Padraig's personal opinion, was absolutely right- but considering who their parents were, the older man had a hunch that telling them so would be the equivilant of requesting death at the gallows.

"As I have told you many times in the past, Vali, Jorgumand can use whichever skills he pleases, including seidr."

This, apparently, was not what the child wanted to hear.

He stomped his sparring boots roughly on the ground, causing a cloud of dust to disperse, tainting the air around the three of them, and marched off to put away his oak-carved sword.

Across the training grounds, in the shadow of an old pear tree, stood Narvi, his ginger lockes falling into his eyes, only to be glued to his forehead by the beading perspiration. The orange and brown tunic he bore had melded with his skin, at this point, as he crouched down to take his brother's hands in his own.

"Come, Fenris. Learning seidr will protect you so that you do not have to be afraid all of the time!"

The toddler's stare had long since drifted to the patch of dry grass he was pulling and plucking at before his sibling had removed it from his tiny fingers.

He had wonderful magical potential- Narvi could feel the energy thrum at his touch- but the boy was bound and determined not to act on it.

 _Maybe Mother was right._ he pondered irritatedly, _Maybe he is still too young. But Father started using seidr at the age of-_ He cut his thoughts off abruptly, feeling tears gather in his eyes. _Father._

oOo

When Sigyn trotted up to the training grounds, her peaceful mood darkened slightly.

She watched from the edge of the square, for a moment, as Vali sullenly shoved his practice blade into its holster. As Jorgumand stood, heatedly lecturing Padraig on some nonsense, and the instructor fought to keep his own temper in check. As Narvi sat against an old tree trunk casting subtle glares at his younger brother who was busy snatching weeds from the dirt.

Only when the golden-haired woman dismounted and led the two steeds over to the canopied resting area, did she catch a glance at the one she searched for.

The tall, slender, black-haired lad was stooped over the water basin splashing his face with the refreshing liquid.

For just a second, the sight gave her pause.

His pale emerald tunic, overlapped with a dark green vest gave him the illusion of being larger than he was.

 _Just as his Father's always did._ the mage woman mused sadly.

"How fares your sparring session, Darling?" she asked.

The child did not so much as flinch at her presence. He'd known she was there all along.

 _So perceptive... just like someone else I know._

"I defeated Jorgumand and Vali, but Narvi tricked me into losing one of my throwing knives."

She halted. " _Throwing knives?_ "

Her son finally turned to her with a sheepish smile.

"Padraig said I could use them with his supervision."

"And was he supervising you at that moment?"

A pause. Then, "No..."

At this, she bristled. Padraig was a good friend, but she knew he was used to teaching older children. As in, he was used to not having to watch them so closely.

"And why not?"

"Fenris got sand in his eyes, and Padraig was tending to him."

At this, there was a high-pitched sigh.

 _Fenris. Such a needy child. But as intelligent and talented as any other, nonetheless._

Then, upon his mother's sharp gesture to the honey-colored stallion behind him, the eldest son hoisted himself up onto the animal.

Sigyn smiled at him, though his ever-observant gaze glimpsed a hint of something troubling in the expression, and once she herself had mounted, the grin faded completely into a look of contemplation. And then,

"Let us take a ride, Sleipnir."

oOo

The paths into the deep vegetation that was the Asgardian woodland were littered with pebbles and stones- anything making it uncomfortable for travel on horseback.

"Why are we here, Mother?" the boy finally asked the question that had plagued his mind since their departure.

"Oh, no reason. I simply wished for a place of solitude to have this discussion."

"What discussion is that?"

The young woman sighed once again, for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"It has been nearly half a year since your father's death."

The entire sentence tasted bitter on her tongue, but Sigyn had long since realized that forwardness was, more often than not, the easiest way to avoid prolonging painful talks.

The way Sleipnir's eyes shined with more moisture than normal also did not go unnoticed by her. It took a moment for the child to consider a response to the tragic statement, but eventually one came, in a clipped tone that did not suit him in the slightest.

"It's been only three months!"

He immediately shot her an apologetic glance. "And...?" he continued more calmly.

"It does not go unseen the way you boys tire of your practice sessions with Padraig. Even when he shows you the methods of battle used by all of Asgard's finest warriors, you still seem unsatisfied." There was a second's pause. "And reasonably so." she continued. "You've grown up with your father's guidance in the art of seidr and combat, since you were but babes. And even though Padraig has been your instructor for a little more than three years now, I can still sense your restlessness."

Sleipnir contemplated this.

"I do not understand."

She smiled sadly. "Because three years is nothing compared to several centuries."

Reluctantly, the boy nodded, but still seemed at a loss.

"Either way... Padraig cannot assist you with the art of seidr, an art I know at least three of you are very fond of. So my question is... Darling, do you suppose you and your brothers will be more content if I were to spend a little less time at the Courts and a little more time at home, teaching you?"

There was no hesitation.

Without any thought, her son's face lit up and his small head bobbed eagerly up and down.

Sigyn chuckled. "Then it is settled. I shall take leave from the Courts tomorrow."

This seemed to give the child pause, as a more conflicted look forced its way onto his usually calm face.

"But... if you do not attend Court, how will you maintain your position as Head Mage?"

His mother smiled.

 _My boy, Sleipnir. Selfless. Always worrying for others. Always choosing the mature way of thought. Always forced to be the mature one..._

"Do not worry, Dearheart. I will still keep my rank should I choose to spend less time on duty."

Another pause, but lighter this time.

"Besides... the Court is the least of my worries at the moment. I've got to be sure you don't set Jorgumand on fire again, do I not?"

At this, they both laughed heartily at the fond memory. _Well,_ she thought _it wasn't necessarily fond at the time, but still..._

 _Such a precious laugh, my boy has. Just like his father..._

Then, for the first time in such a long while, Sigyn began to think that things would be okay. Maybe... maybe she _could_ do this alone.

oOo

"Wow. I thought I'd be happy to hear this, but you seem a little down, there, Point Break. Want a shot?"

"I require no alcohol, Man of Iron. And have care how you speak. Loki has long been very confused, and while I agree that his actions against this realm were misguided, he died with honor. I would that you acknowledge this."

"Look, Thor, I know that you said Loki saved you-"

"He did."

Steve sighed. "But that doesn't excuse what he did here."

"Yeah, and it doesn't really matter anymore, right? I mean, if he's gone, why's it important what we think of ol' Rudolph?" Tony piped up.

"In Asgard it is important that those who die a warrior's death be celebrated."

"Sooo... what? You're asking us to throw Mr. 'Kneel Puny Mortals' a party?"

"Nay. I do not expect you to rejoice, my friends. I only wish you to reconsider your opinion of my brother."

Before Tony's flippant remark could escape his parted lips, Steve interupted.

"Fine, Thor. Even if we don't necessarily _like_ the guy, we can still show respect for the dead."

A pause.

"And I'll see about getting everyone to hold off on the insults... at least for awhile."

At this, the golden-haired man smiled appreciatively.

"Thank you, Captain."

 **Leave a review and tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Okay, I'm just gonna go ahead and leave a little history lesson (this story's history, anyway) here so that I don't have to explain it later.**

 **First of all, in this story, Angrboda is Hela, Jorgumand, and Fenris's mom. Svadilfari is Sleipnir's dad. And Sigyn is Narvi and Vali's mom.**

 **BUT. Angrboda is not a jotun. In this fic, she is a Vanir sorceress. ALSO. Svadilfari is not a horse and neither is Sleipnir. They are both two legged creatures and always have been.**

 **Also just a heads up, Sigyn was engaged to Theoric before she met Loki and she did leave him eventually and start dating Loki, but Loki did NOT kill him. For anyone who was hoping to see Loki kick Theoric's ass, that will not be happening. Loki had nothing to do with their breakup.**

 **Anyway, thanks so much to my very first reviewer! And again, PLEASE REVIEW! I really hope people like this story because it's kind of my pride and joy right now and reviews boost my confidence. Anyway, here is chapter two!**

oOo

Sigyn rested at the base of the old oak tree on the practice grounds, her pale pink skirt falling from her frame to rest on the dirt, sprawled in all directions and making it appear as though she sat upon a mountain of fabric.

Fenris was perched in her lap, one of his small hands clinging to her stark white blouse and the other trying (and failing) to snap a stick in-half.

As the young woman caught a glimpse of the sand coating her golden sandals, she smiled.

It reminded her of the dusty environments on Midgard. She absolutely adored Midgard.

Everything there was always so full of life and color, unlike the repeated patterns of gold and brown all throughout Asgard. And the mortals, they were vastly creative. She mused that it was because their lives were so short and they understood that they needed to make the most out of it before it ended.

Even after all the horrors she had witnessed a certain someone commit on that realm, she could not push away her love for it.

 _Someday,_ she thought _I must return and take the children. They would surely enjoy it._

She returned her gaze to the scene unfolding in front of her.

Jorgumand, Vali, and Narvi all stood to the side, watching as Sleipnir took his combat assessment. Usually, they would cheer their big brother on, but in the sweltering heat of Asgard, after hours of sparring, the boys were running low on enthusiasm.

"Alright, child. You are, by now, well aware of how this works." Padraig rested a hand on his own voluminous belly, allowing the other to snag his student's shoulder.

"You will use whatever tactics or strategies you feel comfortable with, and will try your hardest to best me."

Sleipnir nodded, already too concentrated on his opponent to pay any attention to the words he had heard thousands of times over.

Noticing his lack of patience, the elder man broadened his stance into a combat position.

"Begin."

Without a second to spare, the dark-haired boy sprinted forward, snatching a small dagger from a pocket on the back of his emerald tunic and thrusting it toward his trainer's abdomen.

The attack was, as always, deflected when Padraig effortlessly slapped the weapon from his hand and attempted to pull him into the choke-hold that he was oh-so-familiar with. This time, however, the boy sidestepped his instructor, using his feet to trip the giant man. As soon as he went plummeting to the earth, a green shimmer flowed from the child's hands, encasing him in a fog that, once dissipated, left behind a tangle of thorned vines.

 _This is clearly a new trick_ , Sigyn mused, considering how the older male's eyes widened upon realization.

It didn't take much for the muscled warrior to snap the vegetation, though, and in a split second he was charging Sleipnir. The adolescent dodged his blows, gracefully dancing back and forth out of reach for quite some time, even managing to snag one of his throwing knives on his trainer's cheek, before he was inevitably pinned to the ground by an arm much thicker than his own.

"My boy!" Padraig panted, shifting his weight so the child could stand. He clasped him on the shoulder once his feet were planted underneath him. "I do believe that is the longest you've lasted yet!" He used a thumb to dabble at his small laceration. "And you _got a strike in_ ," he laughed heartily, proud of his young pupil's improvement.

It was true that Padraig had beaten him rather easily, but had it been any other child his age, they wouldn't have been able to get anywhere near the warrior with a blade, much less actually _make contact_.

Sleipnir, however, did not see things that way. When he once again found his footing, he huffed in indignation, angrily slapping dust from the sleeve of his tunic.

"Padraig, you are one of Asgard's _finest_ soldiers. If I may ask, why do always make us fight you if you _know_ we will lose?" Sigyn smiled warmly from the sidelines. It was obvious that her boy was trying his very best to sound respectful through his irritation. _A skill his father taught him._

The instructor laughed heartily at Sleipnir's boldness.

"Because, my clever boy, I hold hopes that someday you will _not_ lose." At the youth's deadpan expression, he gave further explanation. "When, in time, the student surpasses the teacher, I will know that I have done my job."

The large man chuckled as he was met with a defeated sigh, swivelling on his heal to face the other boys.

"Well then!" he expressed, just as cheerfully as always. "Who is next?"

oOo

Steve Rogers was no expert on Asgardian mating rituals, but he was pretty sure Thor was doing it wrong.

The mountain of a man hadn't visited Jane in weeks- not even a single phone call! Of course, when someone tried to bring it up lately, the Aesir just shrugged it off with a measly "I will contact her soon, do not worry."

But the thing was, Steve _did_ worry.

His friend's condition had been growing steadily worse over the past few days and not a single living soul knew why. In fact, Thor had locked himself in his guest room at Stark Tower today and absolutely refused to acknowledge anyone who knocked on the door, no matter how hard they banged or what sort of peace offering they brought with them.

Tony had begun considering the possibility of Asgardian male menstrual cycles when Steve finally decided enough was enough.

"Hey, big guy... It's me... Steve..." he rapped his knuckles on the thick steel, but it elicited no response. "We're all worried about you. ... I just wanna make sure you're okay... _Thor_?"

To his surprise, heavy footsteps thunked across the carpet, echoing throughout the area and, a moment later, the door swished open.

The sight that beheld him was one he definitely could've done without. A slouchy thunder god with overbright eyes and a flask in his right hand stood stiffly on the other side of the door, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to slam it in his friend's face.

"Forgive me, Captain. I am... not in the mood for company."

When it was made obvious by several seconds of awkward silence that the god didn't plan to elaborate, Steve spoke again.

"Is there, maybe... something you'd like to talk about?"

It took awhile, but the thunderer eventually responded.

"My... m-my brother. It is my brother." Thor sighed. "It has been nearly three months since his death at the hands of the Kursed and still- _still_ \- I dream about him. About the look in his eyes..." he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable at the topic of conversation.

The Captain's gaze softened in understanding. He got that way sometimes, especially since Bucky passed. The guy had been his best friend and damn if he could ever forget the _look_ Buck had. _That_ look. The way his face twisted in panic just before he-

"I'm very sorry for your loss." he stated, forcing all the sincerity he could muster into that single generic sentence, for fear that if he spoke anything more he would start spewing his own feelings at the thunderer- something neither of them had the energy for at the moment.

Thor glanced to the side. "Yes, as you've said." he snapped, but he looked back to his friend immediately in apology. "I am sorry. It is not you I am cross with." he sighed.

Steve offered his own weary gaze in responce. "Look," he began after a long moment, " I'm not gonna intrude. Just... at least come down and eat something. Everyone's worried about you..."

And maybe he was crazy, but for some reason, the Captain could've sworn he saw the god's lips twitch up at that.

Also to Steve's astonishment, Thor did join them for dinner that night.

He joked and talked noisily through the entire meal- as he had done before the dark elf incident- and by the end of the night, the whole team's spirits had risen considerably.

That didn't, however, stop Steve from noticing how, after the food was gone, he stacked his silverware and used napkin onto the plate and silently made his way back upstairs.

oOo

"Charlotta, why did Mama have to leave?"

The Lady Sigyn's handmaiden looked up into a pair of pale orange irises.

 _He has eyes like his mother._

"Well, Vali, your mother was called back to the Court on an urgent matter."

At this new bit of information, Jorgumand's head peaked around the corner of their conjoined bedroom.

" _What_ urgent matter? Is it something bad?" he asked, worry written on his face.

"No, Darling. I'm sure it's just something to do with the cleanup efforts... or maybe some rogue dark elves hiding out in the realm." she assured the child gently.

Jorgumand and Vali shared a contemplating look.

Charlotta was a young woman- younger than Sigyn, even- who'd been the Lady's handmaiden since she was an adolescent. After Sigyn was married, she and her husband saw no need in having hired help and politely sent her on a paid leave. In the past year, however, Charlotta had returned as more of a common servant than a maid- helping with the children, cleaning the home, retrieving letters and parcels from the palace- due to a certain death in the family.

All this considered, Charlotta was not one to lie.

She needed this job as much as the Lady needed her and she knew that deception was not tolerated. Even if it be a minor fib to ease the children's worries, she still couldn't risk it. This being said, the two boys were nearly positive that she was giving them all the information their mother had given her, and that would have to be enough for now.

As their minds queried their mother's absence, Charlotta switched off the lamp and made her way to their bedroom door, with the sound of her skirts rustling behind her seeming almost like an abstract lullaby to the children.

"Goodnight, boys." she whispered.

"Goodnight, Charlotta." their juvenile voices chorused, watching her slip out the door and down the hallway toward the living area, where she would await the Lady's return.

Vali grabbed a handful of the fine silk bedcovers and tugged them all the way up to his chin. They were a bright cardinal red- upon his request after he had ruined the old ones several years ago in a rather embarrassing accident- and rested atop stark white linen sheets. The linen wasn't the prettiest or most expensive thing, and in his earlier youth he'd always wondered why they couldn't have the ones like Papa used in the palace, but he recalled his father simply chuckling and saying, "Rarely does it matter what lies underneath, we need only a perfectly beautiful top layer to gain outsiders' adoration."

Whatever that meant.

He often didn't understand his father's metaphors and riddles, as his dialect was well beyond most adults, much less a small child such as himself.

Vali sighed. _Father._

He gnawed his bottom lip as tears welled in his eyes, then peeked around the wall seperating him from his brother.

" _Jor!_ " he half-whispered, half-yelled.

"What?" came the irritatedly sluggish response. _Apparently he'd been nearly asleep already._

"Do you think..." he paused, trying to decide if he should broach the topic or not. Eventually, though, he concluded that it didn't matter whether he seemed childish or not because he _was_ a child, right? So no one was allowed to make fun of him because he was _entitled_ to act like one. "Brother, do you think Papa is in Valhalla?"

He heard Jorgumand give an indignant snort.

"Why should he want to go to _Valhalla_? I've heard that only arrogant and royal men go there!"

Vali considered this for only a second and then responded, "But Papa is a prince. He _is_ royal."

"Yeah?" his brother huffed. "Well, he's not _arrogant_ , and only _arrogant_ men go to _Valhalla_."

Vali wasn't quite sure how to respond to this. Jormugand was right, their father was the kindest and most humble person he'd ever met. So he tried to change his phrasing.

"So you think he's in Helheim?" he asked in a quieter voice.

"Yes, _of course_!" his sibling stated proudly, sounding as if it were the best place for their father to ever possibly be.

"But... is that not bad?" Vali countered.

"Well... it is bad for most people, I suppose... but not for Papa." Jorgumand patiently explained, "Hela will make sure he has a nice place to stay, and brand new silk clothes, and armor, and feasts every day and-"

"So he is not being punished?"

Jorgumand finally peaked around the wall seperating their beds- _which means he had to get out of the covers, so he must want to talk as much as I do._ Vali mused, slightly relieved- and shot his younger brother a look.

"Why would he be _punished_?" he demanded.

Vali tried to piece together all the bits of information he had about what had happened the past two years to make a valid argument, but with as little knowledge of his father's crimes as he had, it came out as a more inaccurate logic than intended.

"Well, he killed people on Midgard, didn't he?"

"He is a warrior. Warriors kill people _all_ of the time. There isn't anything wrong with that!" Jorgumand defended.

"Yes, but... Mama said they were _good_ people! Warriors only kill _bad_ people, not _good_ ones!" It wasn't until he finished the sentence that he felt the hot tears running down his cheeks, making tracks over his tanned skin and dripping down onto the collar of his night shirt.

Jorgumand noticed this too, and- being the good big brother that he was- he climbed out of bed completely and padded across the floor to Vali's side of the room.

For awhile, he stood in silence by his bedside, wiping the salty tears from his sibling's face.

He hated this. More than anything at all, he hated this. More than he himself missed Father, more than he wanted him to come back, more than _anything,_ he _hated_ to see his baby brother cry over it. _That,_ Jorgumand thought sadly, _is worse than anything in the world._

"Do not cry, brother." he eventually said, "Papa was not a bad man, so he is not being punished."

Vali miserably dragged the backs of his hands across his eyes to clear away the moisture before peering up at his brother. They had been in this same situation many times before- after Vali had accidentally wet the bed, or had been beaten especially badly in the training arena, or had fallen and scraped his knee in the palace- but it was never quite like this. Something about this time seemed different, and Vali recalled, much to his own horror, when they'd been told of Father's death the first time.

How Mother had cried as she'd told them to pack their things- that they were staying in the palace for awhile. How the two of them had been so excited until she had informed them that it wasn't a celebration. That Papa had fallen off the bifrost bridge while protecting the realm- that he wasn't coming back. That they were going to the palace to prepare for his funeral with the royal family. Oh, how Vali had sobbed. And Jorgumand had stood at the edge of his bed- just as he was at this exact moment- and wiped tears from Vali's face, even as they streamed down his own. How his older brother had promised Vali that it would all be okay.

Vali glanced up at his big brother.

"You promise?" he sniffed.

"I promise." Jorgumand declared.

oOo

 **AN: Thanks for giving this story a chance! It means a lot! Review so I know if you liked it or not!**


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